


Sherlock and John, Question Mark

by bitterness_is_a_paralytic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 100 Drabble Challenge, Best Friends, Counted Word Fic, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied Slash, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Male Slash, Nightmares, Vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 100
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1222438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterness_is_a_paralytic/pseuds/bitterness_is_a_paralytic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!"</p><p>"I don't believe you."</p><p>"You should, you know," a voice rumbles through the dark. "Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him. How would you describe me, John?" His baritone resounds through the darkness, deep and commanding. A dark flicker of a shadow, a Belstaff coat and dark curls. The bright 'clink' of a missed gunshot. "Resourceful, dynamic, enigmatic?" </p><p>"Late?" John offers, sagging in relief. </p><p>-----</p><p>A collection of strictly 100-word drabbles, featuring multiple snapshots of John and Sherlock (from platonic to not-so-platonic). Contains slight AU's and a drop or two of canon with quite a bit of canon divergence, a splash of angst and a couple tequila shots of fluff. Disclaimers: may contain bits of OOC-ness, major character death, suicide, the works. </p><p>Vanilla beyond belief; updated daily (USA, EST time zone).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Terribly, Terribly Impractical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_1: Illogical

Sherlock was muttering under his breath.

“What is it, Sherlock? You’ve been pacing for ages—”

“Illogical!” Sherlock snapped. “Illogical, illogical, illogical!”

A blink, and then another. “What is?”

A dark look. “Tell me John, what is love?”

“…sorry?” 

“You heard me! Love! What could cause such an _illogical_ emotion?!” he seethed.

“…bloody hell if I know.”

Brooding silence.

“Um, Sherlock. Sherlock? Where’d all this love nonsense come from?”

“Illogical,” hissed the detective. “Terribly, terribly impractical.”

“Sherlock.” A sly grin tweaked John’s face. “Do you love someone?”

A glare. “No.”

“Who is it?”

Silence, sulking only as Sherlock could.

"Sherlock…"

" _No_."


	2. S&J

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_2: Reflection

Brilliant malachite blue irises under a lush mass of thick, coffee black curls; a tall, slender frame with tapered fingers ( _violin fingers_ ) and high cheekbones. A long, dark trench coat swirling below the knees.

Pale bright irises, steel blue, paired with dirty blond locks, neatly cropped and straight as a preacher. A bulkier frame, healthy and fit, with calloused hands and a strong jawline and deep-set eyes. A simple jumper, beige or grey, comfortably creased and worn.

Cutthroat brilliance softened by compassion and honest simplicity sharpened by knife edged intensity—what strange reflections the mismatched two found within each other.


	3. You Look Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_3: Cold Embrace

“Blimey, it’s _cold_.” John shivered as he stepped back into the flat, glad that he’d asked Mrs. Hudson to light up the fireplace beforehand. He sank into his chair, scooting it closer to the fire and briskly rubbing his hands for warmth.

The door flung open and a cheek-flushed Sherlock strode through. “Rather chilly out, isn’t it,” he remarked, blinking rain from his lashes.

“Oh Christ, you look frozen. Here, let me try to warm you up.” 

“I really would suggest against—”

“Bloody hell, Sherlock—you’re frozen through!—oh, come sit by the fire instead. Mrs. Hudson made us tea.”


	4. Confirmed Bachelor John Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_4: Troubling Thoughts

“John.” Sherlock’s voice held a strange note.

“Hm?” 

“What will happen—when you get married?” A peculiar look clouded the detective’s eyes. “Will you move out of this flat?”

John snorted ungraciously. “As if I’m getting married anytime soon.”

“…suppose you did.”

John shook his head wryly. “Confirmed bachelor John Watson, remember? Why do you ask?”

“Mmm.”

“ _Sherlock_.” 

“Troubling thoughts,” the detective dismissed offhandedly. 

John blinked in pleasant surprise. He decided against saying anything, instead smiling faintly into his mug of tea.

Sherlock scoffed, “Don’t be stupid, John. Who would I perform experiments on? Gideon Lestrade?”

“His name is _Greg_.”


	5. Not Your Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_5: Only Human
> 
> The Great Game, in which ten seconds is not enough for Sherlock Holmes.

“Sherlock, it’s not your fault—”

“A child is dead because I was unable to discern the evidence—”

“You solved it barely _seconds_ afterwards. You have to understand that it’s not your fault!”

“I was enjoying the game, John.” Sherlock stopped dead, staring into the shorter man’s eyes. His own were hard with an emotion John didn’t—and couldn’t—understand. “I thought I had the upper hand, but I panicked. Caring is not an advantage, yet it turns out that I’m only human.” He laughed bitterly. 

“Sherlock.” John’s voice was low. “You are much more than that. Please, don’t blame yourself.”


	6. Leaving 221b

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_6: Fork in the Road

“ _Go_ , John. I know you want to.”

“Then stop acting like such a child, Sherlock! I won’t come back, you know.”

“ _Don’t_. I don’t need a flatmate—Mycroft provides bloody everything.”

“Then why did you tell Mike Stamford you were looking for one?” 

“Why not?” Sherlock demanded forcefully.

“You were lonely.” 

“Ridiculous.”

John set down his bags, then came across the room and sat in his chair.

“…your train is leaving soon.”

John laughed. “Sherlock bloody Holmes, you know that there’s no place on earth I’d rather be than 221b Baker Street.”

Slowly, a lopsided grin grew on Sherlock’s face.


	7. Violin Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_7: Lesson

“No, John, you hold it like _this_ —” Sherlock demonstrated, holding the instrument with a grace John wished he had. 

The latter fumbled awkwardly with the violin, arms bent in an awkward attempt to hold it properly. “Something like this?”

Exasperated, Sherlock expelled a sharp burst of air. “Close enough. Now try playing a note—any note will do.”

A sound resembling a dying feline resounded through the room. “Sherlock. I don’t think I’m doing it right.”

Sherlock stared at him incredulously. “One would think you had never taken a violin lesson before.”

“I shoot bloody guns; of course I haven’t!”


	8. Holiday Liquor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_8: Dangerous Territory
> 
> In which there is quite a bit of inebriated OOC-ness from both Sherlock and John.

They tread treacherous grounds once, alone on a snowy holiday with two tall, elegant bottles of liquor. They sat by the flickering tongues of flame in the hearth, drinking from delicate wine glasses, silently toasting their shared ineptness at maintaining social lives.

But strangely enough, John couldn’t think of any other place he’d rather be. “Sherlock Holmes, I love you. Isn’t that bloody peculiar? No funny business—not in a queer way.”

A wine-soaked silence, then—

—a sharp light filtered into the detective’s eyes. “How funny,” he breathed, half-smirking. “I was just about to say the same thing.”

Dangerous, dangerous.


	9. And Then a Wink, the Cheeky Git

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_9: Introduction

It all started with the bullet to his shoulder, Mike Stamford, and then… well, Sherlock Holmes. What a lovely diversion from John’s steady path of life, when the manic detective took him off his lonely road and shoved him onto another.

The beginning, John supposed, was when he’d breathed, “Brilliant.” The detective’s eyes had snapped to his, softening strangely at the edges.

But no, John decided. The real beginning was the introduction.

“The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street.” Brilliant, jaded eyes and then a wink, the cheeky git. 

Oh, John was doomed from the beginning.


	10. Shut Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_10: Boundaries
> 
> The tenth chapter is a good place for a snog, dont'cha think?

There were strict boundaries between the two flatmates. Sherlock was married to his work. John dated women. He loved the detective but refrained from dragging him to bed. Sherlock loved John through small, chaste gestures that sometimes only John could see.

But John had invaded Afghanistan. Respecting boundaries was not his forte.

John disinfected a nasty cut on Sherlock’s brow. This close, he could discern the shimmering flecks in Sherlock’s eyes, practically feel his soft, dark curls.

“Elevated pulse,” Sherlock observed in gravelly tones. “Dilated pupils. Accelerated breathing.”

A kiss was quite adept at shutting him up.

Bollocks to boundaries.


	11. Can't I, Sherlock?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_11: Nowhere and Nothing
> 
> "You Stubborn Toff," Part 1 of 9

“Christ, Sherlock, _listen to me_ or I swear, tomorrow I won’t be in 221b Baker Street and I’ll _never come back_!”

The detective went rigid, colour draining from his cheeks. “You wouldn’t.” 

“ _Watch me_ ,” John hissed, fury glinting in his pale blue eyes.

Sherlock’s eyes turned ashen grey. “You would not. You _cannot_.”

“Can’t I, Sherlock? Want me to prove it to you?” 

“Your life here—suits you best.”

“Brilliant deduction,” John gritted lowly. Seconds later the door slammed behind him. And pathetically enough, away from Baker Street and Sherlock, John found himself with nothing and nowhere to call home.


	12. You're an Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_12: Bitter Silence
> 
> "You Stubborn Toff," Part 2 of 9

“John, you’re an idiot.”

Silence.

“What goes on in all of your tiny little minds? What did you expect?”

Silence.

“I told you not to expect much from me. Those who don’t often don’t end as upset as you do.”

Silence. Empty silence.

“I don’t have friends, John. I don’t know how to be a friend.”

Nothing.

“John? You do know I don’t mean it. You’re an idiot, but you’re my favourite idiot.”

A completely John-less silence.

“We’re out of milk again.” A pause. “John, make me tea?” Sherlock’s voice was weak, even to his own ears. “Please.”

Bitter silence.


	13. The Strongest Shot of London's Finest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_13: Exhausted
> 
> "You Stubborn Toff," Part 3 of 9

Another drink, and another. A couple more. Just a couple more. _Must be a bit… drunk? By now—_

Without noticing it, John missed his mouth and dumped a shot of tequila across his face, the burning liquor spilling into his bloodshot eyes.

“M’s’pose you goin’to make m’pay for that’un too,” the former soldier slurred.

“Afraid so, sir.” A blurry, mildly chagrined face.

_Exhausted… without Sherlock… bloody prat. Infuriating… can’t even enjoy… drink or two…_

“Sir, are you alright?”

“Yeah, jus’little…exh’sted… tired… Sherlock… damn you…”

Not even the strongest shot of London’s finest allowed him to rest, not a moment.


	14. A Bit of a Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_14: Unsettling Revelations
> 
> "You Stubborn Toff," Part 4 of 9

“It is un _canny_ ,” the detective snarled, “how heavily one’s sanity can rely on the presence of one _John Watson_!” He fired seven shots, scoring angry holes in the wall and effectively maiming the sunny-yellow smile.

“Sherlock _Holmes_!” cried Mrs. Hudson. “Not my walls again!”

“John _Watson_ , Mrs. Hudson!” Two more bullets. 

“Had a bit of a domestic?" she sympathised. “Do go and fetch him—you boys are so stubborn!”

“I don’t need him!” roared Sherlock, eyes bright with fury and betrayal.

“Oh, _Sherlock_.”

The detective slumped. Glaring at the gun, he muttered, “This—this is a horridly unsettling revelation.”


	15. The Icing on the Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_15: Separation
> 
> "You Stubborn Toff," Part 5 of 9

John woke with a hangover more massive than Sherlock’s intellect, which was most likely inhumanely possible. _Oh, Christ. Never been a heavy drinker._

When he stood, unsteadily, his world dipped violently to the left.

John took a step forward, instantly regretting it as a phantom pain flared up his leg. “Bloody _hell_ ,” he choked, heavily favouring his other leg. “That’s the icing on the cake, isn’t it? When I’m separated from Sherlock bloody Holmes, my psychosomatic limp acts up again. Lovely!”

He was about to collapse, helplessly, into an alleyway and simply fall asleep—forever, preferably—when his mobile vibrated.


	16. If Unavailable, Come Anyways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_16: Heartfelt Apology
> 
> "You Stubborn Toff," Part 6 of 9

_Come to 221b Baker St., if available. SH_

—

_If unavailable, come anyways. SH_

—

_We’re out of milk. And sugar. SH_

—

_Your chair is accumulating dust. Mrs. Hudson has confiscated my skull. Again. SH_

—

_John. I miss you. I am lost without my blogger. Come home. SH_

—

_I’m sorry. I am undeserving of you, I’ve realised. I have disappointed you. SH_

—

A familiar gait, limping slightly. A gentle, hesitant knock on the door. Sherlock’s eyes snapped open, irises bright and soft. “You don’t have to knock when you come home,” he said, quieter than he’d ever spoken before, almost gently. “John.”


	17. Not Exactly the Average Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_17: Picking up the Pieces
> 
> "You Stubborn Toff," Part 7 of 9

Sherlock frowned. “You’re a mess.”

“Well aware.” John winced, limping inside. Sherlock stood, noting the doctor’s swaying. Striding swiftly, he caught John before he collapsed. The detective gently set him in his armchair, settling into his own.

“You’ve been drinking.” It’s not a question. “Far too much. You’re absolutely filthy and drowning in liquor. Just came from The Mayflower, I presume.”

“Too loud.” John winced, indicating Sherlock’s voice. “Not exactly the average apology, is this?”

“I’m not exactly the average person,” Sherlock acknowledged, copper-green irises downcast. 

Sleepy laughter. “’course not. Talk… later?” John mumbled, finally content enough to sleep. 

“Obviously.”


	18. An Unfamiliar Blanket and the Morning Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_18: Innocent
> 
> "You Stubborn Toff," Part 8 of 9

John woke in his armchair, an unfamiliar blanket wrapped around him. He stared at it, puzzled. 

The former army doctor glanced at Sherlock, realisation dawning. The tall detective was folded up on the couch, pyjamas hiked over his ankles and high on his wrists, exposed to the morning chill.

“Idiot,” John mumbled, placing the still-warm blanket on the slumbering detective. “Out of all the blankets in this flat, why give me yours?”

“Missed you, John,” Sherlock murmured, innocent and honest in his sleep.

“I’ve—missed you too, Sherlock.”

“Don’t go.”

A fond, gentle hand running through dark curls. “I won’t.”


	19. Oh, Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_19: 33%
> 
> "You Stubborn Toff," Part 9 of 9

“Oh, please. I knew you were coming back.”

“Did you, now?” John’s eyes challenged the darker brunet’s.

“Of course.”

“Prove it.”

“You left your belongings here, a hasty departure indicating a surge of rash emotion rather than a final decision to depart. Obvious.”

John slumped. “You really weren’t concerned at all?”

The detective recalled his agonising nights. “I…wouldn’t say that.”

“But were you really sure I was coming back?”

Sherlock hesitated. “About 33% sure, yes.”

John laughed. “You _were_ worried, you stubborn toff.” 

For the first time in days, a smile tugged at the detective’s mouth. “Perhaps a bit.”


	20. I Suppose You'll Always be a Dreamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_20: Dreamer

When John was a lad, his mother had called him a dreamer. He’d been the quiet sort, interested in books and medical science despite his athletic capabilities. Oh, he’d cream the others in a game of rugby any day. But he’d really preferred not to.

“John Hamish Watson,” his mum would scold, fondness twinkling her eye. “I suppose you’ll always be a dreamer.”

But his parents had died in a crash and Harry had disappeared into alcohol. John had enlisted in the military, gotten shot, and met Sherlock Holmes.

He’d never have dreamed of something—someone—quite like Sherlock happening.


	21. Curls Threaded by the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_21: Tears
> 
> (Quite surprised it took me twenty one chapters get to something like this. Post-Reichenbach.)

Whenever John thought of Sherlock standing on the roof, dark coat flaring, he couldn’t imagine his face.

His baritone held tremors of emotion John had never heard before, and John could see Sherlock’s rigid silhouette sharp against the blue sky. John had no trouble seeing his arms lift, and his (dead) detective falling forward, gracefully and lithely, curls threaded by the wind.

But Sherlock’s face always eluded him.

When he dreamed, though, Sherlock’s eyes were sharp cerulean, and—strangely—they were always filled with tears. 

_“Goodbye, John.”_

“Sherlock _!”_

John always woke from those dreams with saltwater bitter in his mouth.


	22. It's mid-January, for Christ's Sake!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_22: Frost

John nearly had a heart attack when he woke up one morning and Sherlock was gone. That in itself was not abnormal, but after a cuppa and some toast, when John walked outside, he nearly _tripped over Sherlock_.

Sherlock bloody Holmes, lying next to the doorstep like a sodding corpse, covered from head to toe in frost.

After John’s heart stopped seizing he managed to (gently, gently) carry the frozen detective upstairs, stoking the hearth and laying Sherlock as close to it as he dared.

Afterwards: “It was an experiment.”

“ _Bloody hell_ with your experiments! It’s mid-January, for Christ’s sake!”


	23. Piss Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_23: Dead Wrong
> 
> Bit of OOC-ness here.
> 
> [Edit: dear Lord, I get what I was going for in this oneshot but please do believe me when I say I know Mycroft would never have been this shallow but in some extremely unorthodox AU.]

The only time Sherlock has ever known himself to be perplexed is in Mycroft’s presence. His brother is an enigma that Sherlock has no desire to solve.

“John Watson. What strange havoc he wreaks upon you, brother dear.”

“Wrong. I do not, in fact, fancy John Watson, as you are implying. He is quite important to me, but certainly not in that manner.”

“Use protection, brother mine,” Mycroft says knowingly.

“ _Piss off_.” 

Mycroft daintily leaves, not realising that for the first time, his deductions are horrendously wrong. The love between the flatmates is far deeper than what he has implied.


	24. A Little Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_24: Everyday Magic

There is an everyday magic to John’s sweet lifestyle, and a little magic he unknowingly works on Sherlock as well.

John’s tea, never exactly how Sherlock would make it when he lived alone, changes slightly each day. But Sherlock finds that he doesn’t mind when his tea isn’t perfectly measured how he prefers it—Sherlock, disturbingly, finds it peculiarly comforting that he can now tell someone is _making tea_ for _him_.

As for John, well—obvious, isn’t it? Life with Sherlock is always exhilarating, with his dry sense of humour and magnetic charisma. He _allures_ danger.

An everyday rhythm. Beautiful.


	25. Go to Sleep, Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_25: The True You
> 
> In which there is cheesiness, ergh. In my defence, just _look_ at the prompt. It practically screams 'cheese.'

“Sherlock, you have a fever.”

“ _The case_ , John,” Sherlock hisses, cheeks flushed on his paling face.

“Haul your arse into bed. Doctor’s orders.”

“How very misleading. People might talk.”

A small smile. “They do little else. Go to sleep, Sherlock.”

“Impossible. Brain won’t stop.”

“Sedatives, then.”

John watches Sherlock fight the drugs and for a terrifying moment, the detective is vulnerable and exposed. John sees thousands of thoughts colouring Sherlock’s irises, sees Sherlock’s truest part, the massive extent of Sherlock’s mind palace.

“We must all seem so stupid to you,” John murmurs.

“No,” Sherlock manages to mumble. “Not everyone, John.”


	26. John, do be Careful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_26: Shattered
> 
> American robbers and Mrs. Hudson, does it ring a bell?

Sherlock’s favourite case was most definitely not the one where John was shoved off a two-storey building onto the cobblestones by a terrorist. Sherlock had almost killed the man, who, unfortunately, was still alive today. (Sherlock had heard, later, that he would never quite regain complete control over his motor functions.)

How regrettable.

John had been still. Blood in dark blond hair. Weak pulse. Dying, _dying_. 

“John!”

“I’m fine. Sherlock, it’s alright—hey, are you okay? You look… shattered. Sherlock—Sherlock, I’m fine—”

Sherlock had crushed him in a brief embrace. “John,” he’d snapped breathlessly, blood pounding, “ _do_ be careful.”


	27. Take My Umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_27: Umbrella
> 
> In which John meets Sherlock under quite different circumstances. Three cheers for the first distinct AU!

It was slick, rainy. The murderer took his chances, bolting.

“Shit!” Lestrade yelled unhelpfully.

Sherlock sprayed water, chasing after the killer. As the perpetrator rushed towards a man with an umbrella, cane, and limp, the detective yelled, “Stop him!”

Instantly, the limp disappeared and the man tackled the murderer, knocking him unconscious. 

“Thank you,” Sherlock panted. “Sherlock Holmes.” He offered his hand.

“John Watson. Oh, you’re getting soaked—take my umbrella. I don’t live too far from here.”

Sherlock took the umbrella. “221b Baker Street.”

“Pardon?”

“A trade. Find me when you bore of the civilian life, Dr. John Watson.”


	28. Jesus Christ, Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_28: Seeking Solace
> 
> (Post-Reichenbach.)

The nights that loneliness crushed John’s heart, he sought solace in 221b Baker Street. He unlocked the door, crept past Mrs. Hudson’s living quarters, and stepped into the chokingly familiar flat. John never turned on any lights—he always gingerly made his way to Sherlock’s room.

He never explored. He simply untucked a bedsheet corner, slipped underneath, and slept. 

_Sherlock. Jesus Christ, Sherlock._

He always left before daybreak, refusing to see the flat under sunlight.

Contrary to popular belief, John was never _in_ love with Sherlock, but he did love the cocky (dead) detective immensely. And he missed him terribly.


	29. Extraordinary, it was Quite Extraordinary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_29: Failure

_“You’ve made Mummy upset,” Mycroft scolds._

_“Wasn’t_ me _,” Sherlock cries indignantly._

_Mycroft shakes his head in disappointment. ‘A failure,’ his eyes sigh. ‘Brother, you are a child.’_

“That… was amazing.” John’s face is awed, pinning the detective with bright blue eyes.

Sherlock blinks. “You think so—?”

“Of course it was,” John cuts in. “Extraordinary—it was quite extraordinary.”

“That’s not what people normally say.”

“What do people normally say?”

“…piss off.” An uncertain quirk of the lips.

John breaks into laughter, and Sherlock feels something warm curl in his heart. He smiles, slamming Mycroft’s scorn into his mind palace’s penitentiary.


	30. Regular Occurrence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_30: Never Again

“You’re rather thin-skinned when it comes to me,” Sherlock observes, noting John’s evident anger towards Sally Donovan.

“How can you stand that?” John demands, fists clenched. “How can you just take that bullshit?”

Sherlock shrugs. “Her opinion hardly matters to me.”

“Sherlock. Sherlock, look at me. How often does this happen? This… name-calling. These insults.”

The detective shrugs again, carelessly. “Regular occurrence.”

John’s mouth tightens. “Well, I refuse to take it. Never again, Sherlock. Anyone who insults you like that will walk away with a bloody nose.”

Sherlock looks at him thoughtfully. “You are a very peculiar man, John Watson.”


	31. Rain or Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_31: Faith
> 
> (Post-Reichenbach.)

John doesn’t tell anyone, especially not his bloody therapist, that he visits Sherlock every day (rain or shine). His skin grazes the marble-slick tombstone and his fingers run over the engraving. He has abandoned his blog, as there is nothing to speak about sans Sherlock. But he visits the grave every day and with a voice thick with sorrow, he talks to his friend.

John still refuses to believe there is an ‘After Sherlock.’ _Denial,_ his therapist would say.

“Not much to do without you, Sherlock,” John murmurs to the stone. “But I have faith. I’ll wait for your return.”


	32. I'll Find Some Sunscreen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_32: A Change in Weather
> 
> In which there is a bit of awkward goofiness (unintentionally, of course).

Sherlock scowled for the umpteenth time that day.

“What’s the _matter_ , Sherlock?” John sighed, exasperated.

“The blasted _sunlight_ ,” the pale detective hissed vehemently.

“…sorry? The sunlight?”

“The weather, John!” Sherlock snapped, as if it were obvious. “Horribly sunny—I can’t even go out long enough to solve a case!”

Realisation dawned on John. “Your skin—it sunburns easily?”

Sherlock was all but snarling, hackles raised angrily. “Of course! I hadn’t any trouble the previous summers, but this _blasted_ change in weather—!” 

So that explained why the detective had hidden in the flat all week. 

“I’ll find some sunscreen,” John soothed.


	33. Sherlock Holmes: The Science of Deduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_33: Online
> 
> In which there is another AU meeting of Sherlock and John, hurrah!

John Watson finds the detective online. 

“Sherlock Holmes: The Science of Deduction?”

“That’s him,” Stamford confirms.

…

“I need you to prove my sister innocent.”

The detective's bright grey eyes narrow. “Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Pardon?”

“Harry Watson. Alcoholic, having trouble with her lover. Fabricated the story to appear vulnerable to you, to convince you to stay with her. Therefore, neither innocent nor guilty.”

John stares. Mike looks amused.

“You will refuse to stay with her, consequently,” Sherlock continues briskly. “221b Baker Street, tonight at seven. Don’t be tardy.”

John gapes as the detective leaves. 

“Found you a flatmate,” Mike says, smirking.


	34. His Seventh Girlfriend (After Sherlock's Suicide)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_34: Seeing Red
> 
> (Post-Reichenbach.)

It didn’t come as a surprise when John broke up with Sofia, his seventh girlfriend after Sherlock’s suicide. She was gorgeous and loving, yes, but also incredibly impatient. She didn’t— _couldn’t_ , really—understand his grief.

( _Dull,_ whispered Sherlock, blasé.) 

“Sofia—look, you have to understand that for years he was my life—”

“You love a dead man more than me,” she snapped contemptuously. “John, I’m not going to compete with your dead boyfriend.”

“He wasn’t—”

“He was a _psychopath_ —”

John saw red. “Get the hell out.”

“What—?”

“ _Get out_ , Sofia,” he hissed.

After her, John gave up on finding love.


	35. Unequivocally, Undeniably Grateful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_35: Gunshot

Rarely did Sherlock ever ruminate anything unrelated to a case. 

Once, however, when he was playing his violin ( _Brahms_ ) as John listened, it crossed Sherlock’s mind how close he had been from completely waltzing past John Watson.

Sherlock instantly catalogued the variables. If he’d ignored Mike Stamford’s case. If Mycroft hadn’t forced a flatmate upon him. 

If John hadn’t gone to Afghanistan and gotten shot in the shoulder.

John still woke from painful nightmares, sometimes. But had that gunshot not ripped through John’s skin, Sherlock would still be alone.

Unashamedly but silently, Sherlock was unequivocally, undeniably grateful to that gunshot.


	36. And What if I Left Right Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_36: Everything for You
> 
> "Our Time in Baker Street," Part 1 of 2

Angrily: “And what if I left right now, Sherlock? If I never came back?”

Dismissively: “Impossible.”

“Oh?” Challenging, hurt blue irises.

“Obvious. Whenever I send a text, you respond within fifteen minutes, regardless of location. When given a choice between choosing me and a girlfriend, you choose me 98% of the time, and you always come to me when I am in dire need. You will not leave.”

Angry, tense, defeated. “Yeah. I’ve given bloody everything for you. I couldn’t leave, even if I wanted to.”

Sharply: “John—”

“No, it’s fine, Sherlock. I’m used to not expecting anything in return.”


	37. I Do Not Have an Everything to Give Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_37: Knowing How
> 
> "Our Time in Baker Street," Part 2 of 2

Very quietly: “John, you are an idiot.”

“Yes, so you’ve repeatedly told—”

“ _No_.” Scathing intensity. John’s head snaps up immediately. “I do not have an everything to give up, John. I did not have an everything before our time in Baker Street.”

John’s mouth is suddenly dry. 

“If this is my everything,” Sherlock continues, “then I will not give it up. Understand this, John—if my everything is the life I have led after you appeared, I will not relinquish it. I would not know how to give it up for someone.” A pause. “Nor would I ever wish to.”


	38. Right on the Cheekbones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_38: Lost and Found
> 
> A smidgen of canon divergence here.

John had lost Sherlock Holmes in the worst way possible—to bloody cobblestones and tears still warm on the detective’s skin. To John’s heart hammering in his throat and Sherlock’s name tearing through his lips.

John had lost him to hopes that he would find the world’s only consulting detective, losing Sherlock inch by inch as the months passed.

When he had found Sherlock, John Watson had had no idea whether he was furious or elated.

The former soldier eventually found Sherlock with a tight, rib-crushing hug, followed by a prompt punch to the face. Right on the cheekbones.

“ _Christ_.”


	39. You Never Do Get to Him on Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_39: Out of Time
> 
> (Post-Reichenbach.)

“ _Too late_ ,” sang Moriarty in a shrill falsetto. “Sorry, John! It looks like you’re out of ti- _ime!_ ”

“John,” Sherlock managed to gasp, writhing in the consulting criminal’s chokehold. “ _Get out_ —” 

“Sherlock—!” John struggled desperately against his bonds, all too aware of the glowing red circles dancing on his skin.

“Sorry!” crooned Moriarty, allowing Sherlock’s limp body to fall. Sickly purple and blue blossomed on pale skin. 

“Sherlock!” Red, chafed wrists strained against ropes. “ _Sherlock!_ ”

“Oh, John.” Moriarty sighed. “You never _do_ get to him on time, do you?”

_(Sherlock, falling. Nightmares.)_

_(“Goodbye, John.”)_

_(Always out of time.)_

_(Sherlock.)_

_(Sherlock.)_


	40. Wood and Flammable Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_40: Burning
> 
> The Empty Hearse and John and bonfires.

When he awoke, covered in wood and flammable things, trapped, John had the sinking feeling that he was going to die. 

When burning liquid (gasoline? kerosene?) spilled into his eyes, John had the horrid feeling that he was never going to feel the cold night air again.

When sparks flew, John knew he was going to suffocate and his screams would never be heard.

When John began burning, he glimpsed flames.

fire _burning_  
blackness _scarlet_  
dying _screaming_

When he awoke, charred and _alive_ , the first thing John saw was Sherlock. 

“John!”

Relief bloomed, cool and crisp, in John's chest. 

(Sherlock.)


	41. John Had Changed Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_41: Death
> 
> (What a morbid-sounding prompt.)

Sherlock Holmes did not fear death. He did not cower in its face, nor scramble to escape its claws. Regretfully, Sherlock’s death would mean his massive intellect would be lost to the world, but that was of little concern to the detective himself.

No, Sherlock never needed to fear death. He was mildly fond of Lestrade and he had a soft spot for Mrs. Hudson, yes, but the two did not shackle him. He would be chagrined at his sudden death as opposed to overly concerned.

But John. John had changed everything.

He’d given Sherlock a reason to fear death.


	42. It Hurts Him to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_42: Forgotten
> 
> In which there is no happy ending, je suis désolée.

“An old friend of yours?” the blonde woman suggests. A ring adorns her left hand, mockingly.

“No,” John replies slowly, unsure. He tilts his head slightly. “I would remember someone with a name that peculiar, Mary.”

For the first time in his life, Sherlock Holmes is speechless. “John?” (He sounds like a child, lost without his mum. Disgusting.)

(Distantly, his mind categorises: _self-forced amnesia._ Grief?)

“You’re the detective who jumped off St. Bart’s two years ago,” Mary says.

John’s face is impassive, his eyes shadowed, uncertain.

“John—”

“Don’t hurt him anymore,” Mary says firmly, softly. “It hurts him to remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very, very honoured that an author was inspired by this one-shot. 
> 
> Read the fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1377241/chapters/2881696)!


	43. It's Not a Magic Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_43: My Inspiration
> 
> I tried, despite the horridly mushy prompt.

“I’ll never get how you pull music from the air, just like that.”

Sherlock frowns. “It’s not a magic trick, John.”

“I know that. It’s just—you must have some sort of inspiration. What could possibly inspire you to compose such—beautiful music?”

“Inspiration is boring. Composing serves no purpose but to help me think.”

Thoughtful scrutiny from pale blue eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

“As you wish,” Sherlock replies neutrally, absently bowing his violin, gazing out the window. 

Eventually, John looks back down at the papers, huffing.

For a moment, sharp azure-silver irises flicker to the doctor, contemplating.

_Inspiration…?_


	44. Live and Let Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_44: Vengeance
> 
> (Post-Reichenbach.)

John wasn’t big on revenge. _Live and let live_ , his mum used to say, and John had taken her advice willingly. Besides, there were no vendettas on the battlefield. Anger and maybe brief mourning, but not revenge. Death happened, frequently. Every shooter would eventually get his bullet.

But when Sherlock jumped, John was hell-bent on vengeance. He wanted to tear Moriarty limb from limb. He wanted Moriarty to scream for inventing Richard Brooke, to die for sending Sherlock off Bart’s and onto the cobblestones.

John sought vengeance.

But Mycroft wouldn’t let him. And John couldn’t understand why.

_(Sherlock lives. Patience.)_


	45. Little Johnny, Sherlock's Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_45: Irregular Orbit
> 
> In which there is Moriarty, up front and personal. (Our dear consulting criminal tends to talk in italics quite often, doesn't he?)

“Ohh _hhh_ ,” Moriarty breathes in his high Irish twang. He circles the detective. “Little Johnny, Sherlock’s _best friend_.” The consulting criminal’s eyes are dark and predatory. “Your adorable, stray puppy. Pet me, Sherlock!” he mimics. “Scratch my ears! One _word_ ,” Moriarty drawls, “and John comes _running_.” 

Arctic silence, quicksilver irises edged and calculating. Suspicious.

Moriarty steps back, head tilted thoughtfully. “You know, he’s only one of the many people you’ve drawn into your irregular orbit. You’re like a black hole, Sherlock.” Moriarty smiles sharply. “Everyone near you is sucked in—obliterated—and yet you’re still so _fond_ of John Watson.”


	46. Stamford's Toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_46: Friendship

Stamford raises his beer. “Best mates forever, Johnny,” he toasts.

John returns the gesture. “Yeah.” 

He jolts when Sherlock materialises, yanking his wrist none too gently and pulling him out into London’s night air. “Wha—”

“John.” Sherlock’s gaze is fever-bright. “Once, you said I was your best… friend. Was that true?”

John blinks. “Where the bloody hell did you _come_ from?”

“John,” Sherlock says warningly. 

“Yeah, of course you are. What’s—? Oh!” Understanding flickers to life on John’s face. “Was it Mike’s toast?”

Silence.

“Sherlock…” A slow grin. “Were you… worried?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Sherlock scowls, but he looks mollified.


	47. I've Got a Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_47: Party
> 
> (In tandem with the mini episode, "Many Happy Returns.")

Sherlock did not hate parties—frivolous gatherings with vacantly milling people exchanging pleasantries and idle chatter.

Sherlock absolutely _loathed_ parties.

For this reason, despite John’s pleading and insisting, bribing and threatening and flat-out begging, Sherlock refused to make an appearance at what was supposed to be John’s birthday party.

“Sherlock,” John said for the umpteenth time, “ _please_.” The look in his eye was foolishly hopeful.

“I can’t,” Sherlock responded, baritone mildly regretful. “I’ve… got a thing.”

“A thing,” John repeated in disbelief. “You’ve got a _thing _.”__

__“A thing,” Sherlock confirmed._ _

__John’s shoulders slumped. “You really hate parties that much, huh?”_ _


	48. I'm Going to Murder Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_48: Pretences
> 
> No clue how this happened, but raise a glass to blind-date AU meetings!

John stares. “You’re…a man.”

The dark brunet is unimpressed. “Brilliant,” he replies dryly.

John blinks, then mutters, “I’m going to murder Harry.”

“Your sister is a homosexual. If you’ve been taking her blind date offers, you shouldn’t be surprised when one turns up male. Mycroft, on the other hand, will be paying dearly for this.” The handsome man glowers.

“How’d you know—”

“Sherlock Holmes. Consulting detective.”

“J-John Watson.” He extends a hand. The detective gives him a hard stare.

“…I don’t believe in false pretences.”

“Ah.”

“221b Baker Street. I could use an army doctor.”

“How—?”

Sherlock smirks. “Obvious.”


	49. Electric-Charged Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_49: Perfection
> 
> Sherlock is such a tease.

John and Sherlock stumbled into their flat, shoulders shaking.

“His—face,” John gasped, giggles punctuating his words.

“Lestrade’s face,” Sherlock countered, chuckling lowly. “For a moment I believed his jaw would unhinge.” 

John recalled the DI’s astonishment, meeting Sherlock’s eyes and dissolving into laughter.

“I’d do this for the rest of my life,” John sighed contently. “This is perfect.”

“John.” Sherlock’s voice was husky, eyes blazingly emerald. 

“Mm?”

Electric-charged silence. 

A gravelly rumble: “John, there…”

“Sherlock?”

“…is no such thing as perfection.”

John blinked. “You absolute prat,” he laughed, head thrown back and eyes closed.

Sherlock smiled warmly, eyes crinkling.


	50. Let Me Explain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_50: Answers
> 
> Fifty chapters mark the halfway milestone! This deserves a snog and some possessive!Sherlock, wouldn't you agree?

“Sherlock, I don’t _understand_ ,” John hissed in frustration. “Nope—” his eyes flashed as he shot Sherlock a Look, “don’t tell me I’m stupid. _Answer _me,__ Sherlock _ _.”__

Sherlock exhaled forcefully, the way a smoker might expel smoke. “And what, exactly, is the question?”

John’s eyes hardened. “Why are you driving off all of my girlfriends?”

“I am most certainly not—”

“Sherlock, I’m not blind! Just tell me why.”

The detective glared furiously. Striding uncomfortably close, he growled, “Why?” His eyes were fiercely silver. “Is jealousy an adequate answer? _Let me explain_.”

“ _Oh_ —”

Because then the detective was kissing him.

(Questions answered.)


	51. Forgive Me, Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_51: Acceptance
> 
> (Post-Reichenbach.)

“It’s the last stage of grief, John,” his therapist soothes.

“Sherlock.” The name tumbles brokenly through John’s lips, familiar and simultaneously bitter, foreign.

“One year, John.”

God, he hates his therapist’s voice sometimes.

“It’s time to move on,” she continues gently. “Acceptance. Sherlock would want that, wouldn’t he?”

 _No_ , hisses a small part of John. _He would want me to wait. Self-centred twat._ But there is too much sorrow in the insult.

“You must, John,” Ella insists, voice soft. “You must accept his death. It is time to move on.”

Swallowing, John says, “I know.”

_Forgive me, Sherlock. I’m sorry._


	52. Copious Amounts of Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_52: Nature's Fury
> 
> Extreme, extreme AU! Some kind of Greek mythology mish-mash, I think? I fully blame the funky-prompt-wording.

Rain pelted forcefully, thunder crackling and lightning sparking.

“For the love of Gaea, who pissed Mother Nature off?” John grumbled to no in particular.

“I may have stolen a copious amount of flowers to experiment on,” Sherlock offered.

“Of _course_. By Zeus, next time try not to subject us to Gaea’s fury, will you?”

Sherlock shrugged.

“Remind me why I like you,” John grumbled as they stepped into their flat. With a flick of his wrist, the hearth flared. Hestia smiled warmly at the two.

“Multiple reasons.” Sherlock grinned impishly, settling near the hearth.

John rolled his eyes fondly. “Yeah.”


	53. Your Affiliation with Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_53: Complicated
> 
> Easy there, big brother Mycroft.

“You see,” Mycroft said pleasantly, “your affiliation with Sherlock has become… _complicated_.”

John tensed. “What’s wrong?”

A delicate sip of tea. “Oh, nothing as concerning as you are imagining. Do you recall our conversation about Sherlock’s… friends?”

John bristled slightly. “He doesn’t have many.”

 “One, total.” Mycroft laughed humourlessly. “The point is that my brother is not accustomed to feeling love, of any kind. He is obtuse in these matters, _utterly_ inexperienced. He’s fragile, John.” Mycroft’s eyes were hard, voice deadly soft. “Be careful with him.”

Stony silence.

Mycroft sighed. “Don’t let it become _too_ complicated, Doctor Watson, would you?”


	54. Slats of Shadowy Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_54: Shadows
> 
> Suicide trigger warning. It's very slight and not at all graphic, but just in case, please be warned.
> 
> "Search," Part 1 of 2
> 
> (Post-Reichenbach.)

The worst part was the fading memories—details lost as time smoothed them from John’s mind.

The number of buttons on Sherlock’s shirt. The colour of his irises as his eyes melted into a smile. The silvery arrows of adrenalin, their blood singing. The sweet taste of bubbling laughter.

John couldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t—couldn’t let Sherlock _disappear_ like this, slipping through the slats of his shadowed memory. He wouldn’t allow it. He _wouldn’t_.

One bullet was all it took.

John stepped willingly into the shadows, searching for the detective in the darkness he had lost him to.


	55. You Should Have Waited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_55: Gateway
> 
> "Search," Part 2 of 2
> 
> (Post-Reichenbach.)

Sherlock hesitated at the gateway to the cemetery, resting a slender hand on the rusted iron bars that looped in a derelict pattern. A shadow passed over his face, and then it smoothed of emotion. He pushed the gate open, taking long strides until he reached a slate-grey tombstone, rough to the touch.

_JOHN HAMISH WATSON_

_In hopes that he found him._

Emotion pulled tight across Sherlock’s lips.

 _Found who?_ he’d demanded the first time.

 _You._  Mycroft had answered, quietly.

“Idiot,” Sherlock muttered roughly, running his fingers over the engraving. “You should have waited for me.”

And then, agonisingly:

“ _John_.”


	56. Absolutely Detested

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_56: Hate

There were times Sherlock absolutely detested John Watson. Times when the detective abhorred the existence of the compact man, the Afghanistan tan and sandy hair. John, who had slipped into his life, slotting perfectly into an emptiness he hadn’t realised existed.

Oh, he never hated John for being _John_. He simply detested that he had a _weak point_. John was his weakness, there for the world to see and harm and steal. Sherlock hated _that_. He hated that it was glaringly _obvious_ that John could break him.

No, Sherlock did not hate John.

He hated how vulnerable John left him.


	57. To Hell with the Exact Shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_57: Colour
> 
> In which John ponders what every Cumbercookie (yes, Cumbercookie) has pondered at least once.

The most immediately fascinating facet of Sherlock Holmes was his _eyes_. Breathtaking, endless glimmering shades of cool jewel hues, _intense_. They’d captivated John immediately.

John could never tell the exact colour of Sherlock’s eyes. Deep blue? Ice green? Polished silver? A silky whorl of all three, shifting constantly.

Even after living with him for years, John was still uncertain. Once, he breached the topic.

“Sherlock?”

“What, John?” he snapped. “I’m busy.”

“Quick question,” John promised. “What colour are your eyes?”

Sherlock shot John an incredulous stare. “Don’t be daft.”

Well. They were stunningly colourful. To hell with the exact shade.


	58. Pin Him Down and Force Feed Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_58: Breakfast

Sherlock never ate breakfast or lunch, eating dinner only occasionally. How the man managed to gallivant across London every night still befuddled John.

He tried to change Sherlock’s eating habits, each attempt an utter failure. Sherlock declared that not eating kept his mind sharp, ignoring John’s huffs of disagreement.

The one time Sherlock got ill, John put his foot down. He cooked a heaping breakfast, bustled into Sherlock’s bedroom, and promptly informed the detective that he _was_ going to eat his breakfast or John _was_ going to pin him down and force feed him.

Sherlock raised a delicate eyebrow. “Alright.”


	59. A Silly, Unbelievable Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_59: Advantage
> 
> In which there is a lot of silliness, very intentionally on John's part.

John had a secret. A silly, unbelievable secret.

It wasn’t about him—oh no, it was about _Sherlock_.

John held an advantage over Sherlock. He had a ridiculous weakness—John had stumbled across it quite accidentally.

“Relax,” John ordered, rubbing circles on the taller man’s bare back. “Your muscles are too tense.”

“John,” Sherlock gritted, “ _stop_.”

“Got to be done,” John said in a matter-of-fact way. He moved lower, massaging Sherlock’s lower back and waist. Sherlock inhaled sharply, muscles instantly stiffening.

“Hey—what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” the detective spat, trembling. “Stop!”

A pause.

“Sherlock,” John grinned wickedly, “are you _ticklish_?”

“No!”


	60. Syrupy Hot Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_60: Summer Haze

John went away in summer. He stayed with Sherlock almost always, but when days turned syrupy hot, his family insisted on his temporary return.

Then his parents had died in a crash. Sherlock was rubbish at funerals—long and full of pretences—but he was milder back at 221b. Gentler.

Summer came. John was most certainly not going to stay with Harry.

That summer was—well. (Sherlock wore _t-shirts_ in summer. He _tanned._ ) They’d be dizzy from the lazy heat, adrenalin searing, summer haze coalescing in their breaths and bright in their eyes.

John stayed with Sherlock year round afterwards.


	61. Don't be Stupid, Mycroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_61: Simplicity 
> 
> Mycroft has a bit of a vague talk with Sherlock.

“Brother dear, if I may ask—”

“You may not,” Sherlock interrupted.

“—how _did_ you manage such control? Doctor Watson means a great deal to you.”

Noncommittal grunt.

“You express concern at his every endeavour and yet you have not attempted to escape to London. Failure would have been inevitable, but that has never stopped you before. So why,” Mycroft’s eyes narrowed, “have you been so patient?”

“Don’t be stupid, Mycroft. John will be there when I return.”

“But he believes you to be dead.”

A glare. “Why do you think I’m returning now?”

“Of course,” Mycroft sighed. “Simple.”


	62. No Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_62: Challenge
> 
> Light AU (or canon divergence, if you will).

“No one can make the nightmares go away,” John mutters, exhaustion lining his weathered face.

Calculating precision sparks in Sherlock’s eyes. “I see.”

The next time he crawls into bed, John resigns himself to the inevitable nightmares.

When he is truly asleep, Sherlock picks him up and lightly carries the man to his own bed. He tucks himself over John, draping an arm around his chest and resting his chin on John’s crown. The quilt is warm, and though Sherlock doesn’t sleep, John does.

In the morning, John demands, “Why the _hell_ am I in your bed?”

Sherlock smiles triumphantly. “No nightmares.”


	63. Black with Two Sugars?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_63: Echoes
> 
> (Post-Reichenbach.)

Every room, every corner of John’s life _echoes_ with the hopeless, disappearing image of Sherlock Holmes. Even in death, the man has John’s life crooked around a finger.

(Damn.)

Funny, that resembles 221b’s wallpaper. It would look perfect with a couple gunshots and a spray painted smile.

Skulls. Don’t they look strange with the rest of the skeleton attached? Sherlock always carried a skull. Only a skull.

Black with two sugars? My friend Sherlock liked his coffee that way.

Violins? Sherlock loved his.

Experiments? You should see Sherlock’s—

God, John wants to choke with the deafening echoes of Sherlock’s existence.


	64. Bit not Good?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_64: Possession
> 
> OOC alert.

Sherlock’s eyes glint, face tilted, coat flaring.

“There are only three material things that can be fully considered in my possession,” he tells John. “My skull, once Mrs. Hudson returns it. Our flat on Baker Street.” Sherlock hesitates, barely. “And you,” he says.

“Me?” John looks startled. “But I’m a—a human—you can’t own—”

Sherlock’s lips tighten marginally, his face closing off. “Bit not good?”

 _Yeah_ , John should say. _I don’t belong to you, like some kind of toy or slave—_ but there is a strange look in Sherlock’s usually confident eyes.

“No—no, it’s, um. It’s fine.”


	65. Brittle, Like Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_65: Missing
> 
> (Post-Reichenbach.)

Mycroft knew that John missed Sherlock. But more than that, he knew how much _Sherlock_ missed _John_.

His younger brother claimed that he was married to his work. But John had become an integral part of Sherlock’s work—and Sherlock missed him terribly.

“Look, John—” Sherlock would breathe, childishly joyful, only to scowl when he realised he was alone.

“Could be dangerous.” Sherlock would grin and pivot, eagerly searching for a man who was trapped in London.

John had an elastic heart, but Sherlock’s was brittle, like glass.

Mycroft worried constantly that if he missed John too much, Sherlock would break.


	66. Scared of the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_66: Dark
> 
> "Chiaroscuro," Part 1 of 2

John was a courageous man despite his stature.

He wasn’t a boy who needed his teddy or nightlight anymore. He’d gone through a war, for Christ’s sake. With Sherlock, he’d braved demented murderers in darkened swimming pools and hallucinatory drugs of demonic hounds.

Yet, when he was caged in a tiny _box-thing_ with absolutely no light, silent as death, he was afraid. It had been hours. The darkness was inky black, choking, thick. He was utterly alone and _afraid_.

“Sherlock,” he prayed, breathing raggedly. “ _Help me_.”

For the first time since he was five, John was scared of the dark.


	67. Christ, Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_67: Light
> 
> "Chiaroscuro," Part 2 of 2

After what seemed like years—

“John!” Sherlock shouted, and then light flooded the dark box. He cried out, blinded.

His eyes cleared to the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen—Sherlock’s face, concern faintly twisting his features. He had a fantastic shiner over his right eye and bloodied lips, but it was _Sherlock_.

 “ _John._ ”

All John could drink in was the wonderful light. “Did you—” John rasped.

“I’ve incapacitated the killer,” Sherlock dismissed, eyes still concerned. “How long have you—”

“Dunno.” John got to his feet, clumsily.

Before he fell, Sherlock caught him.

“ _Christ_ , Sherlock, what took you so long?”


	68. Watson Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_68: Slow Down
> 
> In which John loves Sherlock, non-romantically. Canon divergence.

Out of the corner of his eye, John sees Sherlock pull on his coat. _Not at my wedding, you don’t_ , he thinks. Excusing himself from Mary, he manages to reach the door before Sherlock.

“Slow down,” he says, barring the door.

“I… have something to do.” Sherlock won’t meet his eyes.

“Sherlock… This is my _wedding_. Stay. Please.”

Sherlock opens his mouth to protest, but he closes it at the look on John’s face.

“Okay,” he mutters.

“Dance with me,” John says impulsively. “The groom and the best man. Watson tradition.”

A curious tilt. “Really.”

John shrugs. “It is now.”


	69. Scarlet Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_69: Chocolate

“John!” Sherlock burst into the living room, brandishing a scarlet box of store-bought chocolates. He waved it wildly. “What is the meaning of this?!”

John blinked over his mug of tea, taking a casual sip. “It’s chocolate.”

“I _know_ it’s chocolate!” Sherlock shouted. “What’s it _for_?”

John set his mug down. “Today’s Valentine’s day. You give chocolate to people you like.”

“I don’t like chocolate,” Sherlock huffed, sprawling dramatically on his armchair. After a moment, he popped one in his mouth.

“Didn’t you just—”

“You already bought it; I might as well eat it.”

“Really now?” Faint smile.

“Shut up.”  


	70. You and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_70: Making History
> 
> Super AU! Welcome to the world that was created by a funky prompt and an affection for fairytale-esque things.

Prince John and Prince Sherlock. It was well-known that the two, among a select few, were attracted to both princesses and princes alike.

Prince John was plain but affable, loved.

Prince Sherlock was stunning but cold, distant.

One day, Prince John caught Prince Sherlock’s eye. Gossip whirled, but no one quite knew _how_ Prince John attained Prince Sherlock’s favour. It was dreadfully hard to do so. And Prince John _liked_ Prince Sherlock.

“You and I, we could write history,” John breathed. A waltz, a dance for two.

“Write history? You and I could _make history_.” Sherlock smiled wolfishly, irises vivid-sharp.


	71. Because When a Heart Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_71: Falling to Pieces
> 
> (Songfic.)

_-:Because when a heart breaks, no, it don’t break even:-_

“I will _burn_ ,” Moriarty seethes, “the _heart_ out of you.”

A dry laugh. “I’ve been reliably informed that I don’t have one.”

Moriarty’s eyes gleam. “But we both know that’s not quite true, hmm?”

_-:He’s finally found someone who’ll put him first:-_

“I’ve found someone.” John’s head is held high, defiant. “I’m married now.”

“John…?”

“You were dead, Sherlock. I grieved. But I moved on.”

_-:What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?:-_

Sherlock swan-dives into deep velvet apathy.

_-:I’m falling to pieces:-_


	72. In Any Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_72: Running Away

When Sherlock was seven, smarter than the average adult, he ran away from home. He was rubbish at social interactions, though, and everyone was suspicious of a child traipsing the streets alone. Mycroft found him within a day. (His parents never would’ve.)

When Sherlock was eighteen, light-years smarter than the average adult, he ran away from home again. As a legal adult, he never returned home.

When Sherlock was thirty-two, he discovered John Watson and a new home. He never had a reason to run from John, and Mycroft finally stopped nagging him.

Sherlock preferred John’s company, in any case.


	73. Bored, Bored, Bored!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_73: Game
> 
> A little backstory...

“Bored, bored, _bored!_ ” Sherlock shouts, pacing like a caged jaguar. “John! Give me your Browning!”

“That sounds a bit dangerous,” John responds, flipping a page of the papers.

“John!” Sherlock roars. “I need a case!”

John’s blue eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Want to play a board game?”

“A _board game_ ,” Sherlock hisses, as if the idea is repulsive and childish.

“Yep,” John confirms cheerfully, setting down his papers and tea. “You might like it. It’s mystery-themed, sort of like a mini-case.”

Boredom clearly trumps disdain.

“Fine,” Sherlock grumbles.

“Here let me get it. S’called ‘Cluedo,’ it should be around here somewhere…”


	74. Not a Matchmaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_74: Rivalry
> 
> Big-brother Mycroft~

Mycroft Holmes was not a matchmaker. He did not pull strings to ensure that John Watson never dated a woman for too long, did not actively push Sherlock into shouting for John across the streets of London. The two did that well enough.

No, Mycroft simply… _pushed_ them a bit. A little here, a little there. Send a handsome man to sympathise with the girlfriend while John chased Sherlock. Redirect an interesting case to DI Lestrade’s care, one that required Sherlock’s assistance.

Mycroft Holmes did not match-make. He simply removed people who competed for John’s time, his baby brother’s rivalry.


	75. Labia Oris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_75: Accuracy 
> 
> Three quarters milestone, marked with a snog!

John had a steady hand and was an excellent marksman. What Sherlock wanted to test was John’s effectiveness in utilising…certain  _other_ appendages of his body.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John asked suspiciously.

A demonstration, then.

“Mandible,” Sherlock rumbled, pressing his lips to John’s jaw. He ignored the other man’s jump of surprise. “Sternum, ilium, cranium.” He ghosted his fingers over the middle of John’s chest, his hip, and kissed his forehead, dead centre on each mark despite John’s startled movement.

“Wha—”

Impishly, challengingly: “Well?”

“Labia oris,” John snapped, crushing Sherlock’s lips with his own.

Superb accuracy. As expected.


	76. Dinner with Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_76: Excuses

“We’re going out tonight, John,” Sherlock announces grandly, throwing on his coat and tying his scarf with practised ease.

“I’ve got a date.”

Sherlock scowls. “Again? Cancel it, you’re having dinner with me.”

“ _She’s_ my girlfriend,” John protests.

“Break up with her,” Sherlock orders carelessly.

“I can’t just—”

“Give her an excuse, any excuse will do!” Sherlock explodes.

“Why?” John demands.

Sherlock’s eyes narrow. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he snaps. “You’re having dinner with me.”

“You mean—” John’s jacket is unceremoniously dumped on him.

“Hurry up,” Sherlock growls.

“Okay. Um, just let me text Tina my… um. My excuse.”


	77. Three Minutes to Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_77: Midnight

One night, John screams himself awake. He trembles in his sweat-soaked pyjamas and tangled sheets, breathing hard. The faint crack of light under his closed door suggests that, as usual, Sherlock is still awake.

John checks his clock. Three minutes to midnight. He won’t fall asleep for at least another hour.

At a minute to midnight, he hears light, gentle footsteps. They pause at his closed door, and John holds his breath.

There is a soft sound that indicates Sherlock (who else?) leaning against the wall.

At precisely midnight, Sherlock begins to softly play the violin.

John falls asleep, dreamless.


	78. That Will be All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_78: Future
> 
> More big-brother Mycroft, dabbled with John.

“Since the age of seven, Sherlock has planned on retiring to the countryside.”

John blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“He entertains the notion of retiring to Sussex and keeping bees, should he outlive his latest reckless endeavour.”

“Bees,” John repeats stupidly.

Mycroft manages to look extraordinarily irritated. “The only aspect of his future that he has changed, as of late, is that he hopes for _you_ to retire with him.”

And then John realises.

“I see you understand, Doctor Watson. Do take good care of my brother.”

“Yes—I—” John swallows. “Of course.”

“Excellent,” Mycroft says smoothly, standing. “That will be all.”


	79. The Wind Wails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_79: Stirring of the Wind
> 
> (Post-Reichenbach.)

“God, I miss you.” The choked words fall before the obsidian tombstone. “So much.”

The wind stirs in reply.

“I—have to say it all now. Seeing as—seeing as I’ll never get another chance. _God_ , I’ll never—” The words tumble, tripping over his heavy tongue.

The wind murmurs soothingly.

“I thought I said it all. Before, I mean.” John clears his throat. “Sherlock Holmes, I love you. I never said that, did I? I never—never thought I needed to. I thought—I love you, _Christ_.” A tear drips. “I love you.” Drip. “Oh _God_.”

The wind wails.


	80. A Sensible Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_80: Judgment
> 
> Mary-friendly; and to be clear, John and Sherlock are utterly platonic in this one-shot.

Mary is a sensible woman. She loves John with all her heart and he still loves her despite her twisted past. She is unbearably happy.

Mary isn’t jealous of Sherlock Holmes. She judges that the peculiar man (nothing wrong with peculiar, Mary adores peculiar) quite loves her husband, and that John quite loves Sherlock. Mary isn’t stupid; she knows the difference between love and _in_ love.

John will wilt without Sherlock, and vice versa. Mary is rather content in allowing the two to traipse London regularly. It keeps John young, and Mary would never deny John something—or someone—he loves.


	81. Knock Him Down a Peg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_81: Unbreakable
> 
> Hurrah for the first (and only) kid!lock of this collection!

Vivi Holmes and Amelia Watson met by chance. Vivi had dragged her youngest to the playground, and Amelia had allowed hers to toddle around a bit after stopping at Tesco.

The mothers watched John approach Sherlock. They exchanged heated words, little Sherlock exasperatedly running his fingers through his curls. Both mothers giggled. John tackled Sherlock, clearly tired of talking.

The two tussled in the dirt, rolling and shouting.

“John believes that he’s indestructible,” Amelia giggled.

Vivi hadn’t ever seen Sherlock look so… _childish_. “Sherlock thinks that he’s unbreakable,” she agreed, smiling. “Good of John to knock him down a peg.”


	82. Exploring London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_82: Exploration
> 
> AU meeting :)

Sherlock met John Watson when the soldier was exploring London.

Exploring wasn’t exactly the correct term. _Rediscovering_ better encompassed the former soldier’s actions.

Sherlock loved London. It was the one place he could wander around in the middle of the night, knowing every cornerstone and brick, with no purpose but to _wander_. The familiar, unceasing sounds of London never changed. They were comfortable, steady.

One night, Sherlock stumbled across someone new. Strange. Sherlock had walked this route thousands of times and never come across this man. _Military, army doctor, psychosomatic limp._ Sherlock bewilderingly enough, was intrigued.

“Iraq or Afghanistan?”

“What?”


	83. Head-over-Heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_83: Obsession
> 
> Molly-centric!

It’s no secret that Molly Hooper is head-over-heels for Sherlock Holmes. It’s also no secret that Sherlock is completely uninterested in Molly romantically.

Molly instantly sees how John changes Sherlock. Not colossally, but little bits here and there. When the detective frequents the morgue, he has a little glimmer of a smile in his eyes. He doesn’t stay overnight, for once seeing a reason to return to his flat.

And surprisingly, Molly is happy. John works wonders on Sherlock. Sherlock often looks… _content_.

One could say Molly is obsessed with Sherlock.

She isn’t.

It’s just that Molly loves Sherlock deeply.


	84. Amnesiac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_84: Memories

In a world of terrifying snow-white blankness, Sherlock Holmes is near-desperate for his memories. His mind palace is prominent, polished—but frustratingly _lacking_. All the words are there, but where are the _books_? Where are the memories associated with the knowledge?

A concerned, tanned face. Slight psychosomatic limp, steady hand. Obviously military, army doctor. But _who_?

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock demands hoarsely.

Surprise, understanding, a… _smile_? “You already know, Sherlock.” Irritatingly familiar voice.

He knows. He _knows_ this man. Who?

The faith in his blue eyes is astounding. “You know it all, Sherlock.” Tea, oatmeal jumpers, morning papers. _Who_?

“John.”


	85. Not This Time, John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_85: Patience
> 
> (Post-post-Reichenbach.)

It’s all a matter of patience, really. John knows that Sherlock is alive. And being the arrogant toff he is, Sherlock will expect John to wait for him. _Obvious_ , Sherlock would say.

John was shocked, at first—he even grieved. But Sherlock is spectacular. Sherlock cheats death.

“You must move on,” insists Ella.

John laughs, and his therapist looks pained. “Sherlock would be furious if I left while he was gone,” he explains.

Ella tries again. “Sherlock is—”

 “Not dead,” John says firmly. “I’m just being patient. He always comes back. Always.”

Ella looks incredibly tired. “Not this time, John.”


	86. A Paper Note Falls Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_86: Heart Song
> 
> Can be taken as an AU or canon divergence.

John receives a package in the mail one day, while Sherlock is in rehab. Heroin. It had been a painful year for them.

 _A Song of the Heart_ , reads the label in thin handwriting. Not Sherlock’s. Mycroft’s?

Inside is a record. John frowns, trying to remember the last time he saw the record player. He finds it eventually.

He puts the record on, and after a brief silence, violin music begins playing. The quality is poor, but the music itself is exquisite. _Familiar_ , John dares to think, _Sherlock’s_.

A paper note falls out.

_Horrifically sentimental of my baby brother. MH_


	87. Not at All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_87: At Peace

John despises his military medals. People see the medals and instantly see _war hero_ and _honourably discharged for injury_ , not the battlefield. People are comfortable seeing the medals, less so seeing his scars. His medals are for everyone but himself, and John hates them.

“John!” bellows Sherlock one day. “Give me your medals! I need them!”

John fetches them, feeling uncomfortable, and hands them over to the detective. Sherlock rakes a perfunctory gaze over them, then nods sharply. “I need metal to melt. These will do.”

John gapes.

“Problem?” A small smile.

John grins, strangely at peace. “Not at all.”


	88. It's Okay to Have a Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_88: Heart
> 
> Tad of OOC-ness from both Sherlock and John.
> 
> (Closely pre-Reichenbach.)

“You’re not okay!”

Sherlock doesn’t understand why John is so anguished. “You’ve been talking to Molly, haven’t you,” he snaps.

“What?” (Confusion. Not Molly, then.) “No—just—it’s alright to feel, Sherlock! It’s okay to have a heart!”

“Don’t have one,” Sherlock responds coolly.

“No,” John says, looking sad. (Why is he sad? Why does it matter?) “I know you have one.” John steps towards Sherlock, pressing a steady hand over the detective’s heart. “I can feel it, right here. Please. Let me in.”

Sherlock closes his eyes wearily. (Must John strip him of his defences, so easily and cruelly?)


	89. Until the End of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_89: Eternity 
> 
> (Songfic.)

_-:I could give you my devotion until the end of time:-_

Sherlock doesn’t _love_. Love is a terribly overused word. Mild affection, Sherlock does. Never love.

But Sherlock realises he is devoted to John Watson. Devotion and love, hand-in-hand.

How tiresome.

_-:And I will never be forgotten with you by my side:-_

It is mildly shocking when Sherlock realises he wants John to be devoted to _him_. A ridiculous notion. John, who dates frequently, will not stay forever.

One day, he will find someone and leave.

But oh!—how Sherlock selfishly  _wants_  for John to stay by his side, forever.


	90. Change Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_90: Twilight
> 
> 90th chapter deserves something special! We're almost at the end... :(

It is twilight when he asks the question that will irrevocably change their lives. John knows it is a suicide question, knows it will probably utterly destroy him and Sherlock, but asks nonetheless. He _has_ to know.

(When John reflects on that twilight, later, he wonders how he could’ve been so stupid. How he could’ve missed all the signs that already told him the answer. He must’ve been blind.) 

“Of course,” Sherlock answers. “Don’t be daft.” And just like that, they change forever.

It is twilight when John proposes to Sherlock Holmes.

Of course Sherlock says yes. Isn’t it obvious?


	91. Drive an Old Woman Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_91: Opportunities
> 
> Starring the lovely Mrs. Hudson~

Martha Hudson loves the boys, but they can be so _dense_. Doesn’t John notice Sherlock’s unique devotion? John works wonders on Sherlock—it makes Mrs. Hudson all tingly to see love written across Sherlock’s face.

And really, Sherlock is a detective! Can’t he see how John runs across London for him? Isn’t John’s love incredibly obvious? They’re absolutely perfect!

And to think she’d given them _so many_ opportunities.

But John had taken the upstairs room. They didn’t share her biscuits. And after a brilliant chase, they never kissed! Not even a peck!

It’s enough to drive an old woman mad.


	92. What to Make of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_92: Love
> 
> My "this-is-maybe-realistically-possible" head canon.

John was no stranger to love.

He loved his family dearly, as long as they were a safe arm’s length away. He loved Mrs. Hudson with a protective affection, his country with a soldier’s fierce pride.

John never quite loved his girlfriends. He liked them very much, yes, but never loved them. Why else would they all be so easy to let go of?

Now, _Sherlock_ was a love John did not understand.

He loved the mad detective fiercely, protectively, but admiringly. Not platonically, but not as lovers—nothing so scandalous.

He had no idea what to make of it.


	93. Done Bickering?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_93: Just Friends
> 
> Irene ships it.

John and Sherlock were friends. Just friends. Nothing more than friends. Friends.

 _You’re jealous of Irene,_ a treacherous voice tickled his ear. _Why do you care if she’s hanging all over Sherlock?_

 _She’s messing with him!_ John snapped to himself. _Shut up!_

“On the contrary, ” breathed Irene, draping over Sherlock, “I’m messing with _you_.”

Sherlock blinked in confusion, looking irritated at his lack of understanding. John glared. Irene smirked.

“John—”

“Shut up.”

“You’re—”

“Shut _up_ , Sherlock.”

“Done bickering?” Irene asked lazily, twining her fingers through Sherlock’s dark curls.

“Just starting,” John hissed, hauling Sherlock away from her.

Irene laughed, delighted.


	94. Oh God, Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_94: Reality
> 
> "Hallucinations," Part 1 of 2

John wakes to a freshly bandaged shoulder and his army mates staring down at him, concerned.

Mellor looks at him, concerned. “John, you alright mate? Been delirious since you were shot. Kept muttering some name. Sherla? Sheryl?”

“Sherlock,” John breathes hoarsely. “Why the hell am I here?”

Eddie frowns. “You were shot.”

“Discharged for injury,” John rasps. “Went back to London. Sherlock—where’s Sherlock? What’s happening?”

“Johnny, you’re in Afghanistan.” Mellor and Eddie exchange looks. “You’ve never talked about a… Sherlock before.”

_Oh God, no. Can’t be real._

“John—”

_Sherlock. Reality. Please let this be a dream. Oh God, please._


	95. While I Appreciate Your Enthusiasm—

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_95: Enthusiasm
> 
> "Hallucinations," Part 2 of 2

“John, I’ve never heard of a Sherlock Holmes—”

“This is a _dream_ ,” John mutters, more to himself than anyone. “Been so long since I’ve dreamed of Afghanistan.” Sherlock had to be real. He _had to_. He wasn’t a figment of his imagination. Impossible. Impossible.

“John…” Mellor looks uncomfortable. “I’m… sorry.”

 —

When John finally wakes to his bed in 221b, he slams open the door and nearly falls down the stairs.

Sherlock glances up from the microscope. “John?”

In seconds, John is crushing the taller man in a hug.

“John, while I appreciate your enthusiasm—John? John? What’s wrong?”

“ _Christ_.”


	96. Suitably Mortified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_96: A Moment in Time

John and Sherlock don’t share a bed.

“ _Friends don’t share beds._ ”

But occasionally, when they’re away from London and hotels are irritatingly full, they are forced to.

The first time this happened, Sherlock found John rather… _cuddly_ in sleep. Sherlock woke to John’s head tucked under his chin, an arm wrapped around his waist and legs slotted between Sherlock’s. Sherlock had a slender arm resting on John’s shoulder, fingers twined in his hair.

His mind instantly catalogued every sensory detail, tucking away the moment in time for later.

Sherlock proceeded to wake him with a pointed huff. John was suitably mortified.


	97. So Much Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_97: Falling
> 
> Possible OOC-ness. (Post-Reichenbach.)

In the frustrating two years that Sherlock is absent from London, he develops a recurring nightmare. Much to his chagrin, the effectiveness of the nightmare is not diminished as time goes on. If anything, it becomes more frightening.

Sherlock stands on the rooftop, Moriarty’s corpse grinning blankly. He bids John farewell, heart in throat. Right before he plummets, he sees John on the roof. Illogical, impossible. And then John is falling with him.

At the last moment, Sherlock pulls short. John does not. Chest tightening, broken, _so much blood_ —Sherlock reaches for John’s still face—

And then he wakes, sweating.


	98. So Two Years Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_98: A Place to Belong
> 
> Found-poetry-esque. (I claim no rights to any and all dialogue in this specific piece.)

“Nothing happens to me.”

—

“The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street.”

—

“Want to see some more?”

“Oh God yes.”

—

“Sherlock!”

“What?”

“ _Timing_.”

“Oh. Not good?”

—

“Joining me?”

“Yeah, well apparently it’s against the law to chin the Chief Superintendent.”

—

“Goodbye, John.”

_“Sherlock!”_

—

He had given John a place to belong. Not the sweet, cosy little cottage with a wife and kids John had always dreamed of, no. But a warm home and an exhilarating life. Sherlock couldn’t be dead. He _couldn’t_.

—

“I’m definitely going to kill you.”

“Please. Killing me… that’s so two years ago.”


	99. Don't Tell Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_99: Secret
> 
> Second-to-last ficlet!

John stumbles into 221b one night, stupendously and utterly drunk. He barely makes it to the sofa, and Sherlock sees that he’ll be incapable of further movement without assistance. He could leave John on the sofa, but he’s being purposefully distracting.

“Have a secret,” John slurs in Sherlock’s ear as they struggle up the stairs.

“Not interested.”

“John Watson is in love with Sherlock Holmes,” John whispers dramatically.

Sherlock freezes for a moment, then dumps him on the bed.

“Don’t tell Sherlock. He’s married to his work.”

“Is he now?”

John nods sleepily.

Softly: “Sherlock has a secret too, John.”


	100. Six Feet Under

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt_100: Forever and a Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we come to a bittersweet close. It's been lovely, ta to any and everyone who has taken the time to read this collection!

Old. That’s the word that describes them now.

How had they managed to live this long? By all rights, Sherlock should be six feet under and John with him. Premature deaths, exhilaration, bullets.

But they had grown old. John constantly needs his cane and Sherlock is beginning to go blind, just barely.

How tedious. They’ll die on their own terms.

“You ready?”

“Obvious.”

No one questions the two men’s simultaneous deaths. They had been old, anyways. Death shouldn’t separate them.

They are buried in the same grave.

 

_\- Here lie John Watson and Sherlock Holmes -_

Together, for forever and a day.


End file.
